


your smile could light up new york city after dark

by sparxwrites



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Biting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunkenness, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What if- y’know...” There’s a pause where Parvis struggles for words, heaves a sigh when he can’t quite find them, and turns his face a little further into the comforting warmth of Will’s thigh instead. “Vampires.”<br/>“Vampires?” asks Will, exhaustedly.</p><p>It’s past four in the morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, and he’s sat on a bench in a park with his best friend and a stranger draped against him because they all decided it was a good idea to watch the sun rise. He’s really not drunk enough to be able to justify this to himself – to be able to justify any of this evening to himself  – but here he is.</p><p>Because of Parvis. Story of his damn life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your smile could light up new york city after dark

**Author's Note:**

> i'm exhausted and this is self-indulgent trash. have some kirinparvill being drunk in a park somewhere. i'm blaming "ugly heart" by g.r.l., because even tho the lyrics are kinda angry the chorus is rlly cute. is this teencast? we just don't know.

“What if- y’know...” There’s a pause where Parvis struggles for words, heaves a sigh when he can’t quite find them, and turns his face a little further into the comforting warmth of Will’s thigh instead. “Vampires.”

“Vampires?” asks Will, exhaustedly.

It’s past four in the morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, and he’s sat on a bench in a park with his best friend and a stranger draped against him because they all decided it was a good idea to watch the sun rise. He’s really not drunk enough to be able to justify this to himself – to be able to justify _any_ of this evening to himself  – but here he is.

Because of Parvis. Story of his damn life.

Parvis is sprawled out across Will’s knees, head in Will’s lap. The rest of him is draped across the bench they’re sat on, his legs hanging off the end at an angle that doesn’t look particularly comfortable but apparently works for him. At least, he’s not complaining about it – but considering the amount of alcohol probably still in his system, that doesn’t really count for much.

Someone apparently called Kirin is on his other side, perched on the small sliver of bench not taken up by Parvis’ sprawl and Will’s tired hunch, leaning against him with an arm around Will’s shoulders and doing what feels like his best to crush him. The man’s a good foot taller than him, probably more, broad shouldered and heavy and very definitely not doing anything to keep himself remotely upright. His cheek’s resting against the top of Will’s head, beard a barely-felt scratch against his temple, and Will’s not entirely sure he’s actually still awake.

Part of Will is slightly honoured that he apparently makes such a good pillow. The rest of him is rather more concerned about the way the arm trapped between the two of them is going numb.

Will’s not actually _entirely_ sure who Kirin is, if he’s being honest. He’s seen him around the place once or twice, recognises his face – but an impressively drunk Parvis had dragged him over to where Will had been sat at in some unfamiliar bar at a little past midnight, introduced him as _my new favourite person ever_ , and that had been it. Parvis had dragged them both around for the rest of the evening and Kirin had followed, an arm around Parvis’ shoulder and a slightly bemused smile on his face at Parvis’ exuberance and enthusiasm.

All in all, he’s been the easier of the two to deal with, even taking the lack of feeling in Will’s arm into account.

“Vampires,” repeats Parvis, tries to dig his teeth into Will’s jeans-covered thigh by way of clarification. He fails, mostly ends up drooling a bit, and Will sighs.  
“I _will_ push you onto the floor,” he says – but it’s mostly an empty threat, one hand coming up to card through the mussed and slightly sweaty tangle of Parvis’ hair.

Parvis giggles, wrinkles up his nose and doesn’t seem too bothered by the prospect. “What if- what if I’m a vampire, Will?” he says, thankfully doesn’t try and bite anyone again. “I’ve got teeth. I could be a vampire. I’d be a _good_ vampire.”

There’s a moment’s pause where Will considers dealing with all the problems in that sentence – starting with _why do you want to be a vampire_ and ending with _I’m not sure having teeth makes you a vampire_ – and then just gives up. He strokes a thumb through Parvis’ hair, feels the way Kirin’s breath stirs his hair with every exhale, watches the sky fade from black to blue, and breathes.

“He talks a lot, doesn’t he?”

Kirin’s voice thick with sleepiness, lips only an inch from Will’s ear, and Will can’t help huffing out an amused noise. “He really, really does,” he says, smiles when Kirin chuckles, shifts a little so Will’s arm is no longer trapped between the two of them and going numb.

It means he’s leant even more against Will’s side, leaves Will’s arm nowhere to really go other than around Kirin’s shoulder – but Will’s sort of okay with that.

Apparently bored by the lack of attention being paid to him, Parvis makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a distressed kitten, and begins his inefficient attempts to chew through Will’s jeans again. There’s an unpleasant wet patch forming against Will’s outer thigh that’s entirely the fault of Parvis’ mouth, but Parvis doesn’t seem to notice.

“Stop that,” says Will, flicks Parvis’ nose, sighs again when Parvis tries to chew on his fingers instead. “You’re terrible.”

“Pretty,” adds Kirin, voice little more than a murmur. Will’s not sure whether he’s referring to Parvis, the sunrise, or whatever he’s seeing behind his own half-closed eyelids – he’s still not entirely sure if Kirin is awake, or just sleeping with his eyes partially open and sleep-talking at convenient moments – but he hums in agreement nonetheless.

“ _Okay, you’re pretty, your face is a work of art_ …” sings Parvis, delighted and out of tune, giggling and rolling over onto his back so he’s staring at Will’s face, at the slowly-purpling sky beyond that and the faint scattering of stars through it.  
“Aren’t you in a band?” asks Will, absently cards fingers through the short hair at the nape of Kirin’s neck out of sheer force of habit. “How are you tone deaf and still in a band?”

Parvis giggles harder, somehow manages to get the rest of the words out through his laughter. “ _Your smile could light up New York City after dark._ ” He reaches up vague, questing fingers over his head, somehow manages to find Kirin’s face to poke at his mouth. Kirin sighs, chuckles a little, and Parvis grins wider at the rush of warm air over his fingertips and the gentle kiss pressed to them. “ _Okay, you’re cover-boy pretty, stamped with a beauty mark…_ ”

His fingers dance over Will’s cheeks, tracing out his freckles – one, two, three, too many to count – and Will feels his cheeks heat up, knows he’s probably gone bright red.

“You’re terrible,” repeats Will, though there’s no heat to the words, just tired affection. He threads his fingers a little higher up through Kirin’s hair to run careful nails over his scalp, and sighs at the way Kirin curls into him. The weight’s almost comforting, now, the warmth of the two people pressed up against him enough to stave off the shivers of the early-morning cold.

“I definitely need both your numbers,” says Parvis sleepily, ignoring Will completely as per usual and yawning widely. The sun’s rising, which seems like the _perfect_ time to start thinking about sleep.

Kirin hums quietly, tilts his head a little more until his lips are pressed against Will’s temple, which does nothing to help the slowly fading blush across Will’s face. “I’m not actually sure I know where my phone is,” he admits, patting vaguely at his pockets with one hand before giving up. “It’ll turn up. Probably. Everything’s fine.”

Will laughs, flushes again when he feels the way Kirin’s lips curve into a smile against his skin at the noise. “Parvis, you already _have_ my number.”

Parvis blinks up at him, grins wide and slightly sappy. One of Kirin’s hands settles on his head once he’s finished rummaging through his pocket, and Parvis leans into it – into the way Kirin’s fingers link with Will’s against the tangle of his hair, the heat of their hands sinking into his scalp. “Oh, yeah,” he says, softly, reaches up and touches two fingers to the corners of Will’s mouth. “I do.”


End file.
